


Nothing's Wrong With Dreaming

by CompletelyCreative



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fandom-songs challenge, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Purgatory, fswc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-07
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-04-03 08:28:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4094023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CompletelyCreative/pseuds/CompletelyCreative
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's dreams never get better. Every night, he gets caught in Purgatory, and every night, he ends up doing the same thing: He screams Castiel's name.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing's Wrong With Dreaming

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of my Fandom-Songs 30-Day Challenge (original post found [here](http://scarlettcharlie.tumblr.com/post/120573318456/fandom-songs-writing-challenge-list).
> 
> This ficlet is based off of the song 'Friday Night' by McFLY.

‘They’re-- They’re everywhere, Cas... Cas, I-- Are you there? I can’t-- I can’t get away!’ Dean flailed around, tripping over himself as he crawled backwards. He was there, again. In Purgatory, in Hell. In the place where monsters swarmed and he was no longer the hunter, but the hunted. The Carved, the Tortured, the Work of Art that was covered in splatters of his own blood, drawn by someone else. This time, of course, like all the others, he couldn’t tell if it was real or not. If he really was becoming another bloody canvas, or if he was just screaming into his pillow, screaming names that weren’t real. Dean was truly afraid, where ever he was. And so he did what he did every night, be it from fear or paranoia or just plain heat.

He called Cas. Screamed his name, like it was the last thing that he could do.

The Leviathan were getting closer to him, and he had no weapon. Roots of rotten trees tripped him, and Benny’s body lay to Dean’s right. His head was to Dean’s left. He was all alone, with no where to go and no way to fight. He had reached the end of the line.

‘Cas! Cas, please! I-- I can’t get away!’ He felt a hand on his shoulder, and closed his eyes. It was one of them, he knew it. He always knew it. 

But, as always, he really didn’t.

The hand shook him firmly, and suddenly there were two hands on his shoulders, and then two arms around his body.

‘Dean.’

Dean gasped awake. He was wheezing, his fists grabbing the sheets with panic for stability, and his entire body was drenched in sweat. But he was also sitting up, held by two clothed arms that brought him out of Purgatory, out of Hell. They were rocking him left and right, and held him close to a warm, dry body that was shushing him with every right and every left.

‘C-Cas? Is-- Cas?’ It was all he could get out, simple and repetitive, over again in short whispers. The arms held him just as close.

‘It’s me, Dean. Shh,’ the body backed up in the low lighting to show a scruffy face and messy hair, ‘It’s me.’

|-|-|-|

‘I’m so sorry, Cas. I-- I didn’t mean to do any of that.’

‘Any of what, Dean?’

‘Well-- y’know, the screaming and... crying and stuff.’

The two were sitting on the edge of Dean’s bed, talking quietly as not to wake Sam. Castiel was stroking Dean’s hand with his thumb, softly, lightly. Dean had never asked him to do so, but he never pulled away either. Dean was holding a glass of water in his other hand, and there was a towel at his feet -- the glass had dropped twice before, and the water was still threatening to jump above the rim of it. Castiel didn’t mind the crashes and shatters, but they shook Dean to his core, especially in the nights that transported him from frozen, to burned. Dean shook his head and bit his lip.

‘Heh... I should just stop sleeping, really. It’d be better for the both of us.’ Castiel shifted in his seat.

‘Dean, that’s nonsense.’

‘No, I’m serious.’ Dean shook his head, ‘I can’t keep on screaming your name in the middle of the night all the time, it’s not good, I--’ he was starting to ramble, and he took a sip of his water. He couldn’t look Castiel in the eye. ‘I can’t keep on bothering you like this. I need to stop.’

‘Dean, I... Dean, look at me.’ When Dean bit his lip again, Castiel tilted his chin and looked at him with earnest. ‘Look at me.’

‘Cas, I-- I just can’t.’ His voice was starting to shake. Castiel leaned in close to him, like he always did. Dean never asked him to, but in   
these nights he never pulled away.

‘Dean,’ Castiel was still stroking his hand, ‘I never said that you bothered me. Ever. I’ve always come when you called, and I always will. I promise.’

‘But you have other things to do!’

‘I will never be too busy for you.’

There was a moment of silence right then. They both looked into the other’s eyes, then at each other’s lips, and then down and down until Dean’s tears landed on their hands. Castiel sighed, but not a sigh of discontent or tire. It was one of color, of pastels and gentle gardens found by ponds of fish. He wanted Dean to breathe those colors in, to be filled with a soft rainbow. He wanted to see him in the light that he was when Castiel put him back together again, for that very first time. But he just saw broken glass. He sighed again, and rose to his feet. Dean looked at him, his hand still gripping Castiel’s, wondering if he had to let go now. Castiel just shook his head.

‘Hold onto me. I’m here.’

Dean took a breath and rose to his feet as well, and followed as Castiel walked to the door of his room. Their hands remained locked together as Castiel pulled Dean through the halls, up the stairs, and out the door of the bunker. When they laid down on the dry grass outside, Castiel was still stroking Dean’s hand with his thumb. He pointed into the sky. Not anywhere in particular, really. But Dean’s eyes still followed in the direction of Castiel.

‘What do you see, Dean?’

‘...Black.’ Castiel turned his head to look at Dean. He was biting his lip again, and his eyes were watered. He brought his hand up and wiped the tears off of his freckles. 

‘It’s said, in some lore or another that I frankly do not remember...’ he smiled, ‘that the stars will show your true desire and want. It doesn’t have to be in life, or in death. It can be just in that moment.’ He was quiet for a moment. ‘Do you see black, Dean?’ Dean closed his eyes. He shook his head.

‘No. I see black -- I see black when I close my eyes.’ A tear escaped his lids. Castiel reached over and held his cheek, stroking his face with his thumb. Just like he had been doing with his hand.

‘Then keep them open. Just for now.’

Dean flicked his eyes open again and looked into the sky of faint glimmering light.

‘What do you see, Dean?’

Dean’s eyes followed a shooting star, and then found the Big Dipper before he answered.

‘Silence.’

It followed that moment then. Silence. Castiel didn’t say a thing, and Dean swallowed them all. Castiel could hear the words tumbling down his throat, threatening to come back up. After five minutes, they did.

‘But I can’t have that.’ Dean blurted. Castiel stroked his hand again. ‘The-- the dreams I have, they take over my nights, and-- and when I’m awake, I hear the walls speaking, and the paintings watch me everywhere I go, and... I’m never alone, Cas. It’s never quiet.’ Castiel didn’t need to turn his head to know that Dean’s lips were trembling. There was no point in biting them to hold it back.

‘Dean.’

‘What.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with dreaming.’

There was silence again. Dean’s breathing slowed, and Castiel was still there.

‘Cas.’

‘Yes, Dean?’

‘What do you see in the stars?’

Castiel was quiet for a little while. Dean was wondering if he was looking up into the stars like he was, if he was searching for an answer. He turned his head to look and see, but instead, Castiel was looking at him. He was looking at everything but Dean’s eyes, admiring the freckles on his skin. They were like stars, dancing over his eyelids and across his cheeks. There were no shooting stars and no constellations, but Castiel was looking at him like he was looking through the universe. Dean parted his lips just slightly, and Castiel met his eyes at last.

‘I see you.’  
The world paused. Like it was giving them time to think, to look at the worlds in each other’s eyes. to look at the stars in their skin. The angel wasn’t looking at the stars in the sky. His eyes were wide and focused on Dean, and Dean alone. Dean found himself sitting up and leaning over Castiel just a bit to be balanced. Castiel found himself propped up on his elbows, crooking his neck to meet Dean halfway. The stars of their lips touched. Dean closed his eyes, and for a little bit he didn’t see black, but a gentle rainbow. Color swam between them before they let go, and didn’t speak for several minutes.

‘Dean.’

‘...Yeah?’

‘What is it like now?’

Dean didn’t need to ask what Castiel meant. The stroke of his thumb, the dried tears, the gentle light that was captured in him. He turned to Castiel, and blinked slowly.

‘It’s quiet.’


End file.
